


The memoirs of a wilted flower

by Ideasofmarch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, F/F, F/M, Gen, Good Petunia Dursley, James Potter Bashing, James Potter Lives, Lily Evans Potter Bashing, Lily Evans Potter Lives, No Lesbians Die, This is self indulgence, Why Did I Write This?, Wrong Boy-Who-Lived (Harry Potter), i changed the entire backstory, idk i love the concept, idk i wrote this at two am im sleep deprived, is this a role reversal?, it kind of is, kind of, no beta we die like men, theres some dark humor in there i guess its not bad but yeah just warning you
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22133374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ideasofmarch/pseuds/Ideasofmarch
Summary: The life of one Petunia Marie Evans had never been easy, and it hadn't been particularly pleasant for a long time either. In another world, one much different than this, Petunia was alone. Jealousy turned into bitterness turned into hatred - and hatred marks the soul like nothing else.This time was different.Petunia found a family, one that cared for her and loved her, when she was on the brink of loosing herself to her anger and it saved not only her life, but Harry's too.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Mr Evans/Mrs Evans (Harry Potter), Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), Petunia Evans Dursley/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 108
Kudos: 490





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys!!  
> So i totally wrote this while procrastinating both my other story AND my homework, so we can officially say i've hit a new low. this story is really just an idea i've been playing with for months and i wanted to try my hand with a new style of writing. I hope you like it!!  
> love,  
> IdeasOfMarch
> 
> (EDIT: hey ya'll idk if this gave you a notification but i'm just updating the grammar and stuff, i may have added a line or edited a few conversations but the majority is still the same. Good news, though, i AM working on chapter two!! :))

Petunia Marie Evans was born a normal girl to normal parents.

This is, obviously, completely par for the course when one is a non-magical individual who, in fact, had no idea that magic was a real thing.

Jeffery and Delilah Evans were perfectly content with their first daughter.

She was proper and polite – cried only when injured and even then not too much. They’d heard horror stories from other new parents of sleepless nights but were delighted to find that Petunia didn’t have much trouble at all with sleeping through the night.

She was an easy child – most called the Evans lucky, blessed even.

Five years later they decided to try for another child. A boy, they hoped, to be named Jeff after his father.

Alas, it was not to be.

Delilah’s second pregnancy was a tad bit more difficult. Whereas Petunia followed the timeline exactly – a stickler for the rules even in the womb – this child seemed to care little for what was expected. The baby was kicking at four months, morning sickness lasted well into the third trimester, and Delilah was forced into labour about a month early.

Despite this, Delilah gave birth to a healthy baby girl with tufts of flaming red hair and chubby cheeks. The doctors were absolutely baffled at this and insisted both of them stay a few days for observation. It soon became clear that, though Lily Evans had thrived despite her shortened stay in the womb, Delilah Evans would never bare a child again.

Though disappointed, their plan had been to have at least three children, Jeffery and Delilah again found themselves content with their two normal, healthy daughters.

Another three years passed before anything really started to change in the Evans household.

There had been signs, earlier on, but Petunia had been little more than five, you can forgive her for missing them so completely. Delilah and Jeffery doted on Lily, far more than they ever did Petunia. She assumed it was because Lily was a fussy baby – always crying and demanding attention at all hours of the day.

But, a couple of weeks after Lily’s third birthday, Petunia and her parents watched the toddler bring a dying flower – ironically, it was a petunia – back to life in her palms.

It was like a switch had been flipped.

Suddenly the Evans started acting like Petunia didn’t even exist. Oh, they provided for her alright. She was dressed and fed, sent to a good school with a nice sum for lunch money. But apart from that it was as if she were a ghost in her own home. Continuously and without doubt she was pushed aside for her sister, any semblance of a conversation was dropped the second Lily started babbling.

Petunia couldn’t understand it.

She was the _perfect_ daughter; smart and polite and Ms Bluebell said her drawing was really good in art class and – well, she was also eight, her understanding of what made a good child only went about that far.

What she didn’t understand was that, with Lily, the Evans were _more_ than content. Even before her powers came in there was always something unique about her, be it her red hair, bright and vibrant in a sea of brown and blonde, or her mischievous spirt.

Now, though? Any old child can be _polite_ , but how many parents can say their child taught herself to _float_?

They saw it as their duty to foster this seed in Lily, she was special, after all, and special children need more attention to grow. So _maybe_ it meant giving less attention to their other daughter – but she didn’t need it as much, anyway.

This, of course, is a terrible way to go about parenting. Most rational people can see that it’ll probably lead to both children having issues down the line.

But no one ever said the Evans were rational.

Petunia’s first reaction was to try and _earn_ her parents love. If she could just _show_ them that she was special too… maybe then they’d give her the time of day. Naturally, unless Petunia could somehow figure out how to levitate objects, nothing was going to be good enough in her parents eyes.

She still tried, though, with all the determination of an eight year old girl scout. She cooked and cleaned up after everyone in the house, studied as hard as she could, her clothes were always immaculate – she even taught herself to walk on those tall high heels that were getting popular.

By the time she turned eleven she was a popular, straight A student with a bright future whose parents hadn’t spoken to her in six months. Lily, meanwhile, was six with the reading comprehension of a four year old and the Evans couldn’t seem to stop gushing about her abstract finger painting skills.

That was around the time Petunia officially gave up. She stopped cooking and cleaning for them, it was obviously pointless, but kept up everything else – at eleven years old Petunia was well aware that she’d probably have to get herself through university, she doubted her parents had saved anything for her – or, if they had, that they wouldn’t blow it all on Lily by the time she needed it.

It’s a sad thing to see: total and utter defeat in the eyes of a girl so young.

This was also around the time a new family moved to Surry. The Williamsons were the kind of people Petunia had been trying to emulate since she was six. Classy but gracious, proper but kind. Pressed shirts and pearl necklaces and – _God_.

Petunia didn’t know if she wanted to be them or if she wanted to hit them with a stick.

Their daughter, Genevieve, was to be in Petunias year group.

She’d walked in, perfectly curled hair and a dainty sweater, took one look around the room and marched straight over to where Petunia and her friends were sitting.

“Hi.” She’d smiled, offering her hand, “I’m Genevieve.”

“Petunia.”

And that was that.

Petunia, the unofficial official leader of the group, invited the new girl to sit with them and it quickly became apparent that the two were almost identical, personality wise.

Now, in situations such as this, they have a tendency to swing one of two ways. Option one: they absolutely hate each other – can’t even be in the same room without starting a verbal and/or physical throwdown. Or, option two: they become inseparable.

Luckily for everyone involved, it seemed the two girls had gone for the latter.

While Petunia had always had _friends_ , she’d never had a _best_ friend. Genevieve and her spent hours together – going to the movies, talking on the phone, hell, they even went _jogging_ together. In the span of a year they went from Petunia and Genevieve to _PetuniaandGenevieve_. Never one without the other – a package deal.

Petunia became a regular at the Williamsons, often spending more time there than at her own house. The Evans hadn’t noticed this development quite yet; they were too caught up with Lily’s miraculous discovery of some latent ballet talent.

David and Lorretta Williamson, for their part, absolutely adored their daughters new best friend.

It was easy to pick up on the fact that Petunia was more than used to neglect from adults, evidenced in the way she startled the first time they’d asked her about her day or her opinion on the news – or anytime they acknowledged her at all, really.

Lorretta was furious when she realised, she’d had to be held back by her husband from marching right on over to the Evans and asking what the hell was wrong with them. She’d eventually settled for making sure Petunia knew that she was always welcome and that her opinion was valued in their home.

The years dragged on.

The Evans grew more and more distant from their eldest daughter. Lily and Petunia could hardly stand to be in the same room without inciting a screaming match. Delilah and Jeffery, of course, always took Lily’s side, pushing Petunia even further away.

Meanwhile, Petunia was practically adopted into the Williamson family.

Genevieve was more her sister than Lily ever was. Lorretta loved cooking with her as Genevieve had a tendency to burn anything she touched. As they were a family of intellectuals – yes, David used that word completely unironically – Lewis, Gen’s older brother, and his father enjoyed sharing in depth literary analysis with Petunia over the dinner table.

On her fourteenth birthday the Williamsons surprised Petunia with a room in their house and an open invitation to stay as long as she’d like.

“Oh my.” Petunia gasped, Looking around in awe at the baby blue walls of her new room. “I can’t believe it.”

Loretta laughed from beside her husband, “Oh honey, we’ve been thinking of doing this for years. you’re _family_.”

“You _guys_ …” And then she’d rushed forward and engulfed the entire family in a group hug which they happily returned.

Petunia had basically moved in after that, popping over to the Evans maybe once or twice a month to check if they’d realised she was gone.

It was always the same. She’d walk in, her parents would vaguely acknowledge her presence – if she was lucky – then Lily would wander in and be as aggravating as possible. Then Petunia would either stay the night or leave, depending on how much Lily pissed her off.

It was during one of those nights she’d slept over that they got the news.

Petunia was sixteen, Lily was eleven. It was a bright, sunny morning and for the first time in roughly a year all the Evans we’re having breakfast together. Petunia was only still around because Lewis was running late to pick her up – she was seriously considering walking back to the Williamsons at this point.

They were all eating breakfast, the silence only interrupted by the occasional question sent Lily’s way. Petunia felt like an intruder.

Then there was a knock at the door.

Petunia blew out a breath of relief – Lewis was here and she could finally leave, back to her _real_ home.

Only it wasn’t Lewis when she opened the door. A tall, intimidating lady dressed in – were those _robes_? – and an honest to God pointy witch hat towered over Petunia.

“Hello,” The woman said in a clear Scottish accent, “Is this the Evans household?”

“Yes, nice to meet you ma’am. I’m Petunia Evans, would you like to speak to my parents?” In the face of confusion Petunia automatically fell back on her manners.

“I would, thank you. What good manners you have, Miss Evans.”

Petunia held back a wince at her last name.

“Of course, hold on a moment.” She walked back to the kitchen, “There’s someone at the door for you.”

“Who?” Delilah said without looking up.

“I’m not sure, she said she’d like to speak to you both.”

“Well, let her in then,” Jeffery waved his hand at her, “show her to the living room, we’ll be there in a moment.”

Petunia did just that, settling both herself and the strange women in the living room while they waited for the rest of the Evans.

“I’m sorry ma’am, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh, I am professor McGonagall. I’m here with a proposition for a Miss Lily Evans.”

Petunia hummed, tilting her head for a moment before it clicked, “Can you do magic as well? Have you come to teach her?”

“Why, yes, yes I do – and I am. I’m a professor at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry.” McGonagall looked rather pleased and Petunia had to fight off the urge to preen, “It’s a shame I can’t offer you a place as well, you would’ve been a fine addition to Hogwarts.”

“Thank you, Professor. I admit I was rather bitter when we were younger, but I’ve come to terms with it. No use crying over spilt milk and all that.”

In truth she’d always envied Lily for her gift – it was completely unfair that only one of the Evans sisters be granted magical powers and the other a childhood of neglect. But with the Williamsons she’d found acceptance and managed to let go of that resentment over magic– now she only hated Lily for being a spoilt brat.

McGonagall nodded, “Are you close with your sister, then?”

Before she could answer the rest of the Evans came into the room and there was a knock at the door.

Petunia stood, smoothing out her skirt in the process, “It was lovely meeting you, Professor, but I’m afraid I have somewhere to be.”

They shook hands, “And you, Petunia.”

She was out the door before anything else could be said, and if McGonagall noticed how she did not bid her family farewell, well, she didn’t comment.

Lewis was wating for her, sheepishly holding a donut out in a gesture of good will.

“Sorry for leaving you stranded.”

Petunia glared at him, but her lips were twitching upwards so he knew she didn’t mean it.

Lewis smirked, “Hey! You can’t be mad at me, I got you a double chocolate with extra sprinkles.”

“Just because you memorised my favourite donut doesn’t mean you can use it to get out of trouble.”

“it’s worked every time so far,” he sang.

Petunia took a very pointed bite out of her donut in response.

“Told you!”

And with that Petunia put Lily and Hogwarts out of her mind. She had her GCSE’s to worry about – no use wasting brain space worrying about what was happening in a magic school while she had real life to worry about.

Studying was… hectic. The two girls had commandeered an entire spare room in the Williamson house for it. Their notes were everywhere, flashcards were pinned to a corkscrew board that had been brought in from… somewhere, and piano music was playing faintly in the background. Loretta supplied a steady stream of coffee and food while the two men stayed as far from that room as they could get.

And then it was just, well, over. It was sort of anticlimactic, in a way. All this preparation and lead up to the big exams and then you just did them. Now A levels were around the corner and the GCSE’s didn’t even seem like that much of a big deal.

Petunia had made it a point to drop by the Evans house when the results were released, she didn’t plan to stay, so she made Lewis wait for her in the car.

“The GCSE results came in,” She called from just inside the front door, “I got five A’s and four A stars!”

“Mhm.” Came the enthusiastic response.

Which was almost entirely what Petunia was expecting but never let it be said that you can reach a quota on disappointment.

“What’d they say.” Lewis asked when she slipped back into the car.

“I don’t think they were listening.”

He bit his lip, fumbling for a moment before sighing and resolutely taking her hand.

“They are fucking idiots, Petunia.”

“Lewis…”

“No. I know that you like to pretend you’re okay with the way they treat you but it still gets to you. I _know_ it does.” He stared at her until she lifted her chin to meet his eyes. “So I’m telling you now. You are amazing, and smart, and funny, and pretty, and they’re _idiots_ , Petunia. They’re idiots for not realising how _special_ you are.“

And then Petunia’s lips were on Lewis’s. He’d been inching forward his entire speech, but in the end it was Petunia to surge forward, grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt and hauling him into her.

They kept kissing until both their lips were kind of sore and their backs were protesting at the awkward position.

“Tunia’” Lewis panted into her shoulder, “I never got to ask. Would you like to go out with me sometime?”

She laughed, “Of course I would, you idiot.”

And then, in the blink of an eye, years had passed.

Petunia and Lewis were going steady. All the Williamsons had been thrilled when they announced that they were dating – even if Genevieve had been slightly grossed out because, ew, that was her _brother_.

Lily had been off to magic school for the past two years and the girls had gotten through A levels without a hitch. Petunia had also officially stopped going over to the Evans house, she hadn’t even seen her parents in about a year.

The single occasion they’d had contact was when she popped over to discuss university with them and they’d gravely informed her that Hogwarts tuition was incredibly expensive. And, Lily clearly needed the money far more than she did. And, you understand, don’t you petunia?

Contrarily, Petunia did not understand. But she’d also been expecting this to happen since she was like eight, so it wasn’t exactly a hard pill to swallow.

Luckily, with her excellent grades and glowing letters of recommendation, plus the money she’d been saving for the past decade, Petunia was hardly limited in her choices.

In the end she’d decided to go to Queens university in Belfast to get a degree in psychology on a partial scholarship. Genevieve was going as well, except she’d be studying to become a nurse. This decision was only a little influenced by the fact that Lewis was also doing his second year of his joint engineering and business degree there too.

And so things went for the next seven odd years.

They’d all graduated and moved back to Surry. Genevieve was working as a nurse in the local hospital while Petunia was an assistant psychiatrist at a practice near the house. Lewis had even started his own car shop for when he wasn’t helping his father manage the family wealth.

Oh, and Petunia was now officially Mrs Petunia Williamson.

It was almost funny how before, back when she was Petunia Evans and every written document and formal address was a reminder of a horrible childhood, she’d hated introducing herself. Now though; _now_ all she felt was a bubbling rush of joy and relief.

Nobody was quite sure who was the happiest person at the wedding. Lewis, who started crying when Petunia stepped into sight, Petunia, who hadn’t stopped grinning the entire day, or Genevieve, who dragged Petunia around and introduced her as ‘my _sister_ , officially now.’

The Evans were not invited to the wedding.

The only time Petunia had even spoken to them since that fate full day was when she’d dropped by the house to pick up some of her baby stuff – Pregnancy had made her impulsive, and this morning she’d been struck with the thought that she wanted her child to have something of hers.

Had she taken perhaps five minutes more to think it through she’d have probably have just sent Lewis and Genevieve to do the dirty work for her. But, as previously stated, pregnancy made her impulsive.

She’d hopped in the car and drove down to her old house without a second thought.

“Petunia?” Delilah Evans had said in shock when she opened the door, “You’re pregnant?”

“Yes.” Petunia said dryly, pushing past her mother, “I’m just here to grab some of my stuff from upstairs.”

“Wait!”

Petunia turned at the base of the stairs, “ _What_?”

“Who’s the father?”

“My husband.” Petunia answered shortly.

“You got _married_?”

Petunia resisted, but just barely, the urge to roll her eyes – pregnancy was making her snappy as well as impulsive, “Yes, I just said that.”

“But – how – what –“

Petunia left her mother spluttering and hobbled – her big belly was in the way of her legs god _damnit_ , she should’ve done this months ago – up to her room. The box of baby stuff were right where she’d left them: stuffed in the back of her empty closet.

She placed it on her hip and then started the trek back downstairs where, joy oh joy, her father was waiting with his hands on his hips.

_“Petunia Marie Evans –“_

“It’s Williamson now, actually.” She cut him off with a small smirk.

“How _could_ you?”

Petunia raised an unimpressed eyebrow, “How could I _what_?”

His face was red and he spluttered before gesturing harshly in the direction of her stomach, “Marry some random man and then get yourself knocked up like some common floozy!”

“Excuse me?” Petunia said, offended, “Why on earth would you assume that? _No_ – what makes you think you have _any_ right to question me?

“We’re you’re _parents_.” Jefferey frowned.

“Please,” Petunia scoffed, “I moved out when I was fourteen.”

“What?!” Delilah gasped, “Where were you?!”

“You didn’t even _realise_ I was gone – you lost any claim you might’ve had the moment I turned eighteen and stopped being your legal responsibility.”

The looked like they were about to argue but Petunia held a hand up to silence them.

“If you must know,” She started, “I began staying at a friend’s house when I was twelve, that same friend later offered me permanent accommodation, which I graciously accepted. I lived with them from age fourteen to eighteen, at which point I was accepted into Queens and studied Psychology, along with my friend and her brother – whom I started dating at age seventeen. Five years later he proposed to me and I said yes.”

“You didn’t invite us to your wedding.” Delilah said, voice small.

Petunia wasn’t moved, “No, I didn’t. I had my husband’s father walk me down the aisle. It was quite a lovely ceremony, lots of tears.”

Jeffery looked down and away.

“Lily got married too.” Delilah spoke after an awkward moment of silence.

“Good for her. A little young, but she’s always been reckless.” Petunia shifted on her feet, “If that’s all, my husband and I were planning to paint the nursery today.”

“I could help.” Delilah said quickly.

Jeffery grunted, “I’d like to meet my son in law.”

Petunia eyed them both. This was everything she’d ever wanted, both her parents showing interest in her life, Twenty five fucking years too late.

“No. No I don’t think so. I don’t want you in my life and I don’t want you in my son’s life.” She turned to leave, pausing just before she shut the door, “I had to get therapy because of you two. Lewis convinced me it would be a good idea, it really did help me realise how fucking terrible you were as parents.” She patted her stomach, “If I ever have any doubts with this little one, I’ll just do the opposite of whatever you did to _me_.”

“Petunia Evans,” Jefferey scowled, “How _dare_ you –“

“Williamson.” She said sharply, “My name is Petunia _Williamson_.”

She closed the door before they could say another word.

Ten months later and both her parents were dead, a car crash – drunk driver who hit them and then high tailed it out of there. Petunia had been nursing her child, a strong baby boy they’d named Daniel, when the police had rung to tell her.

She’d told them to tell Lily Evans and hung up. And then she’d felt slightly bad about the fact that she didn’t care at all.

“Is it bad?” She’d asked Lewis as they laid in bed that night.

“Not at all, honey.” He said, burying his nose in her blonde curls and kissing her head, “They didn’t care for you, why should you care for them?”

She wondered if Lily went to their funeral.

She wondered if there’d been a funeral at all.

Daniel was a whole two years old when Petunia was startled awake in the middle of the night by a pounding at the door. Whoever it was, Petunia was going to beat them black and blue because she had _just_ gotten Daniel to close his eyes and now his cries were echoing throughout the house.

The door swung open and Petunias scowl was met with… no one?

And then she looked down and _oh_.

That was a baby, in a basket. There was a _baby_ in a _basket_ on her front porch.

What the fuck?

“Lewis!” She called, grabbing the basket and delicately placing it on the table before extracting the shivering child within.

“Wazzit?” He asked, stumbling down the stairs still clearly half asleep, though he certainly sobered up when he noticed that his wife was holding a baby that definitely wasn’t theirs.

“Someone left a _baby_ on the porch.”

“On the porch?”

Petunia nodded, “In a basket!”

“Is there a note?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t check.” Petunia rocked the child in her arms, thankful that at least Daniel had settled back down without her having to go deal with him as well.

Lewis rummaged around in the basket before triumphantly holding up a piece of parchment, “Aha! Let’s see… _Petunia Evans_ – it’s Williamson now, actually” Lewis corrected with a smug smile.

“Just read the letter, Lewis.” Petunia sighed.

“Yes, yes. Okay where was I…

_Petunia Evans,_

_I’m writing to let you know that my husband, James, and I were involved in a horrific event this past evening. We were attacked by the leader of a terrorist organisation. We both miraculously survived. Though my husband is severely injured he is expected to make a full recovery._

_This terrorist organisation is out to get people like me, who were born to non-magical parents, and people like my husband, so called ‘blood-traitors’ who associate with us. One of our sons, Michael Charles Potter, managed to defeat the man who attacked us with his magic, thus ending a long and bloody war._

_Though the war is over there are still many out there who believe people like me and my children should be killed. So we have sent our younger son, Harry James Potter, into your care. Michael is prophesised to defeat this great evil and so must be trained in our world, but Harry will be safer in your care._

_He’s currently fifteen months old and his birthday is the thirty first of July. He hasn’t any allergies._

_We will return for him on his eleventh birthday should he be accepted to Hogwarts._

_Sincerely,_

_Lily Potter_.”

Petunia blinked, taking a moment to be thankful she’d told the Williamsons about magic when she’d married in.

“Wow,” Lewis said, “Your sister is a _bitch_.”

Petunia snorted, “She’s doing just what my parents did but _better_. _She_ got rid of the lesser sibling all together.”

Lewis paused, sucking his lower lip into his mouth, “We’re keeping him, right?”

“Of course we are.” Petunia looked down at the baby in her arms, “And we’re certainly _not_ giving him back in ten years.”

“So, to the adoption agency in the morning?”

“ _This_ is why I love you.”

“Aw,” Lewis cooed as he came to stand beside Petunia to stare at a sleeping Harry, “I love you too, Tunia’”

The adoption agency, of course, was incredibly understanding – well, as soon as Lewis started tossing money at them they were – and managed to fast track the entire process. Within a week Little Harry David Williamson had everything he needed to be a functioning citizen of the world.

The rest of the Williamsons were ecstatic to meet the newest member of the family, even as they fumed once they’d heard just _why_ he was with them. Genevieve was also exited to announce her pending marriage to a nice girl she’d met at work.

Dianna, Genevieve’s fiancé, was obviously nervous, seeing as she’d proposed to Genevieve a year into their relationship and without meeting the family, but she fit right in.

Sometimes people are just meant to be – and Dianna and Genevieve, they just clicked.

The whole family was taking a trip to America so the two could be married by some spiritual priest – because, duh, two women getting married in great Britain in the eighties was _not_ an option.

It was fun.

The whole thing had involved a lot of beads and wine and fabric. But Genevieve was smiling brighter than the sun and Dianna had her arm plastered around her new wife the entire night. Petunia held Daniel on one hip and Harry on the other while she gave Dianna the obligatory shovel talk.

Soon enough her boys were off to school. Harry was a bloody genius and, while Daniel was no slouch, he was by far the more athletically inclined of the two. Daniel had taken the role of a protector for his brother, seeing as said brother was the biggest nerd anyone in Surry had ever seen – Harry also had the unfortunate habit of being entirely unable to keep his mouth shut when he witnessed an injustice.

Later, Harry would experience the growth spurt to end all growth spurts coupled with muscle gained from hours and hours of Quidditch practice. But for now he was a scrawny child who got into a frankly astonishing amount of fights.

All of which Daniel had had to yank him out of.

David Williamson had finally decided to retire and passed the mantle onto his son so he and his wife could travel the world. Genevieve and Dianna had moved in next door to Petunia and Lewis, which everyone involved was ecstatic about as it lead to many family game nights, gossip sessions, and easy access to babysitters for date night.

Petunia and Lewis were also certain that Harry would indeed be receiving a Hogwarts letter.

From the moment they’d adopted him he’d been displaying signs of power. He’d levitate blocks or toys whenever he or David wanted them, pop in and out of existence when it came time for a bath. On one memorable occasion he’d turned Lewis’s hair electric blue – Lewis had liked it so much he’d kept it for seven months before dying it back.

Petunia made it a point to sit down with both boys when they turned ten and explain that yes, Harry had magic. Yes, there were other people with magic. No, that didn’t mean she loved either of them any more or less than the other.

She’d also given Harry the letter Lily had written all those years ago.

She and Lewis had never hid Harry’s origins from him. Though even if they did it would be hard to explain how he was their biological child. Both Petunia and Lewis were fair skinned and, while Lewis did have brown hair, Harry’s Olive skin and jet black hair weren’t anywhere close to a match for it.

And so, when Lily and her husband did inevitably show up, everyone was prepared.

“Hello!” Lily greeted cheerfully when Genevieve opened the door. The entire Williamson family was piled into Petunias living room, they’d all insisted on camping out there when they found out what was happening. “I’m Lily Potter and –“

“Yes, yes. I know who you are, Petunia told me. Now tone it down, It’s too damn early to be that chirper.”

It was eight am and the rest of the family was happily eating breakfast – Genevieve was a singular night owl in a family of early birds.

“Oh, well then, may we come in?”

Genevieve waved the family of three in.

“Petunia!”

Petunia turned at the sound of her sisters voice, “Lily.”

“Who’re all these people?”

Petunia raised an eyebrow, “My family.”

“Oh,” She faltered for a moment, then perked back up, “This is my husband, James. And our Son Michael – I believe you already know our other son.” She tried for a joke.

“Charmed,” Petunia gestured and her three boys came to stand beside her, “This is my husband, Lewis. And our _sons_ , David and Harry.”

“Now wait just a moment –“

Lewis cut James off with a shit eating grin, Petunia couldn’t be more proud of her husband, “This is my mother, Loretta, and my father, David.”

“It’s a pleasure, but –“

“And this is my sister, Genevieve.”

“We’ve met, now –“

“Oh, have you?” Lewis said cheerfully, “That’s right, she opened the door for you, silly me.”

“Yes but –“

“And let’s not forget the lovely Dianna, my sisters wife. Of course you know _my_ wife, Mrs Potter, she is your sister, after all – even though you haven’t spoken in, what was it, ten years?”

“fifteen.” Petunia added smoothly.

“Ah that’s right,” Lewis nodded, ignoring the way all three Potters looked like they wanted to blow something up, “Fifteen years, that’s a long time to go without speaking to someone. Really, I speak to _my_ sister every day, one would think that –“

“Enough!” Lily shouted, “I’m sorry we haven’t spoken, truly, but I am here to collect _my_ son.”

“ _Your_ son?” Petunia asked innocently, “I’m sorry, but I have to inform you that there isn’t a Potter living at this residence.”

James pointed at Harry, “Harry is right there.”

“Yes,” Lewis agreed, “My son, Harry Williamson.”

“His _name_ is Harry Potter.” James frowned.

“Not as of the official adoption records.”

“The _what_?” Lily screeched.

“Did you really think I’d just _give_ _back_ the child you abandoned on our doorstep?”

“Yes!”

“Well tough, Lily. You can’t pick and choose when to be a mother.”

“I was protecting him!”

“I don’t think even you believe that.” Petunia shot back.

“Does anyone want to hear what I think?” Harry asked and both mothers quieted.

The Potters looked smug, like they just won the whole argument, while the Williamsons calmly gestured at Harry to continue.

“you,” he looked pointedly at his former parents, “Abandoned me in the middle of the night. You had no clue if mum was going to keep me or drop me off at the nearest orphanage. I don’t care who gave birth to me; these people,” Harry gestured at the Williamson, “raised me, _they’re_ my family.”

“Who do you think you are?” Michael snapped out, “You’ve got no right to speak to us like that!”

“You’re the ones who came to see _us_.” Harry rolled his eyes.

“I think you better leave now. Harry _will_ be attending Hogwarts, but he’s _our_ son.” Petunia smiled sweetly, “I’ll show you to the door.”

The Potters were silent on the short walk to the door, they stepped outside and Lily caught Petunias eye.

“I should have given him to mum and dad, they never would have turned him against me like you have.”

“Oh, _Lily_. Haven’t you heard?” Her tone was sympathetic, but Petunia was well aware she was grinning like a shark, “Dear old Mumsie and daddy were killed.”

“What?!”

“A car accident about ten years ago.”

Lily screeched, tears filling her eyes, “Why wasn’t I told?”

“I thought you had been.” Petunia shrugged, she paused, tilting her head in consideration, “If not you, Lily, I wonder who arranged the funeral?”

And then she slammed the door in Lily’s outraged face.

Maybe she _was_ holding on to a teensy, tiny bit of resentment when it came to her sister.

She walked back into the living room with her head held high. Her sister, her real one, was fast asleep in her wives arms. Her parents were arguing over what colour they should paint the outside of their house – they’d narrowed it down to beige, and a slightly darker beige. Her kids were engaged in a game of scrabble while her husband smiled up at her from his position on the couch.

“Hey,” He said as she fell into his arms.

“Hey yourself.”

“I love you.” He mumbled into her neck.

She giggled, “Love you too.”

“Ew gross!” Harry shouted.

“Mum! Dad! Stop being gross in front of us!” David added.

Harry clutched at his face, “My _eyes_! They _burn_.”

And then everyone was laughing. Long and hard and _happy_.

It had taken almost three decades to get here, to this good place. Three decades of disappointment and heartache and love and acceptance. It was hard work, but Petunia could honestly say she’d do it all again – the neglect, the hatred, the tests, the _therapy_.

Their story was far from over. She hadn’t forgotten what Lily had said of terrorist organisations all those years ago. She’d be sending Harry into a place she couldn’t follow and dangers she couldn’t protect him from.

But she knew, as long as they kept _this_ , this right here…

They’d be just fine.


	2. Chapter ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not mean to make this a chaptered fic, the plot happened and i don't know how. I still just love this concept though and i hope yall do too, so here's chapter 2 :))   
> Lot's of love,'  
> IdeasOfMarch

Harry going to Hogwarts was expected.

And Petunia always appreciated the expected, even if she didn’t particularly like it.

Her parents favouring her sister was expected, they never wavered or strayed from it, and she was able to acclimatise herself because of it. Her teachers preferential treatment of her was expected, she’d worked hard to cultivate and maintain a good rapport, she liked that it consistently paid off.

In a way, even falling in love with Lewis was expected. It was only logical that she should fall for the male version of her best friend – if Petunia were so inclined, she’d have likely fallen for Genevieve instead.

So Harry, whom had shown an aptitude for magic almost as soon as he came into their care, always had Hogwarts in his cards.

Daniel, decidedly, had _not._

They’d made their peace with Harry leaving the moment an owl swooped into their kitchen with a letter in claw a couple of days after Lily had visited. A teacher from the school coming to see them had, of course, been an option – albeit an unlikely one seeing as Petunia doubted Lily would broadcast the world that she’d thrown her younger son to her mundane sister.

Harry’s letter had read _Harry James Potter_ , which made her and Lewis irrationally angry, both still a little high strung from the Potters visit. Harry himself was determined to correct this as soon as possible, which really only proved that he was Petunias son through and through.

Then, on an overcast Thursday morning, a knock on the door pulled Petunia from her seat beside her husband where she was reading the news over his shoulder.

“Professor McGonagall?” Petunia blinked.

The professor looked quite the same as she had twenty years ago. The only difference was perhaps a few soft lines around the eyes.

“I – yes. Do I know you?”

She nodded, “We met once. I’m Lily’s sister.”

Recognition flooded the professors eyes, “Petunia Evans, was it?”

“Petunia Williamson, now, actually.” Petunia smiled, “I assume you’re here for Harry?”

“Harry Potter?” She asked, “Why would I be at your home for your nephew?”

“It’s Harry Williamson, now.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My dearest sister,” the venom in her voice was near palpable, “dropped him here ten years ago, for his protection, of course.”

McGonagall looked lost for words, so Petunia took pity and silently ushered her in.

“If you’re not here for Harry, then…” Petunia paused, realising exactly _why_ and finding her own mouth just as empty as the professor.

“Your son.” McGonagall said after a moment, “I’m here to invite your son to Hogwarts.”

And it’s not that Petunia was disappointed or disgusted or anything. She was just surprised, perhaps a little terrified. Sending one of her children into a world so rife with prejudice – where a couple barely out of adolescence was the target of an assassination attempt by a terrorist group – was terrifying enough. That anxiety was worsened by the knowledge that Harry would face the brunt of that societies scorn for who his biological mother was and how he was raised.

Oddly enough, the thought that both her children would be going, that they’d at least have each other, was comforting.

Thinking back on it now, with the information that Daniel also possessed magic, it became very clear that both Williamsons had been dismissing things that should have made that very fact obvious. It hadn’t helped that David and Harry were hardly ever without each other, and so most miraculous events could be placed on the latter’s shoulders.

But there were a few cases, once when Harry wasn’t even in the house, that Petunia wondered how they’d manage to delude themselves so.

“Right,” Petunia said absently, then, with a bit more energy, “Right, I’ll go fetch the boys.”

“Honey,” Lewis called from the kitchen, “Who’s at the door?”

“A professor from Hogwarts,” She called back.

“The magic school!?”

“Yes, it seems Daniels’s going too.”

“What?!”

“Just get out here!”

“Coming!”

Petunia turned to McGonagall, “He’ll be over as soon as he inhales his coffee, never mind that I _just_ poured it out of the pot.”

A faint exclamation sounded from the direction of the kitchen and Petunia just sighed.

“Excuse me a moment.” Petunia showed the professor to a couch before going to grab her boys, including her husband, who was now nursing a burnt tongue and his pride.

The conversation went completely pear-shaped in a matter of minutes.

Lewis, still enthused by the thought of magic even fifteen years after discovering it, could not stop asking the professor about how magic was able to bypass the laws of physics and of its limits. Thankfully, McGonagall seemed rather delighted to be able to talk about magical theory and ended up giving a twenty minute lecture on the topic.

It was both informative and interesting, but it also didn’t answer the important questions about the school that Petunia really wanted to know.

The boys, for their part, were polite and respectful, even if Petunia had to shoot them a sharp look every now and then when they started to quite literally bounce with excitement.

Eventually, around an hour later, Petunia finally managed to steer the conversation back to where she wanted it to be.

“So how much it the tuition?”

“Oh!” The Professor pulled out a piece of parchment, “My apologies, Petunia, Lewis. I meant to give this to you in the beginning of our discussion. It details costs, requirements, the grading system, as well as rules that must be obeyed whilst at Hogwarts.”

Petunias eyebrows climbed as she went through what amounted to a Magic: for dummies guide, Lewis lent on her to read as well. Hogwarts really _was_ expensive, if it wasn’t for the fact that Lewis was old money she’d be a bit worried about how they’d afford to send both the boys. If that was the price for just the first year then she didn’t even really want to think about next year’s bill.

“I’m sorry,” Petunia paused at a line that really caught her attention, “It’s a onetime payment?”

McGonagall nodded, “One payment for all seven years, yes.”

Lewis scrunched his eyebrows, “What if they want to transfer schools?”

“That hasn’t happened in more than a century, Mr Williamson.” She said, “But were that the case we would offer a refund for the years skipped.”

He still looked sceptical – because _seriously_ , no transfers in a _hundred_ years? – but let it go with a slow nod.

McGonagall smiled, “I am also available to accompany Daniel – as well as Harry, it seems – to Diagon ally, where they will buy all their school supplies.”

Lewis perked up immediately, “Can we come?”

“Of course.” The professor replied.

They set up a meeting for the following Saturday and then every member of the Williamson household waited with baited breath until the day came.

Harry and Daniel were just plain excited, they’d both get to go to a school that taught _magic_ – in their books that was reason enough.

Lewis was planning to spend a large sum of money on magical theory books, he was both determined to still be able to help his boys with their homework and incredibly interested in magic himself.

Petunia, well, she was more nervous than excited. She’d left Lily and their parents to do this shopping trip without a second glance the last time around, so this was, technically, her first introduction to the magical world.

And to say she was unimpressed by what she’d seen of it so far was an understatement.

There is a satisfaction, even when it is detrimental to your own interests, in being right. And Petunia could not help but sigh in disappointment when they stepped through the wall into Diagon ally. The boys liked it well enough, all three of them too enraptured by magic to make note of the buildings that looked like they hadn’t changed in a thousand years or the dirty streets littered with waste both mundane and magical.

It would take a few hours, maybe a few days tops, until the thrill wore off and they saw things as she did. This was the way it always was, Petunia had learned well enough that it was easier to weather their excitement than try to point out the inadequacies immediately when they wouldn’t listen. Better to let them get it out of their systems and then smirk as they bemoaned the fallacies she’d already spotted.

The trip to the bank was rather uneventful, except for when both Petunia and Harry gave the goblin matching scowls when he tried to shove the Potter trust fund key in their direction. Lewis happily entered a small fortune of normal money into the bank and had a quick chat about investments with the goblins before the family was on their way with a magical bag linked to their new vault.

The rest of the shopping trip went much the same way, with Petunia making note of every glaring issue, Lewis’s excitement calming until he’d started sporting that small frown that Petunia had learned meant he was observing and looking for faults (he usually only wore it when looking at an engine, but some expressions transfer). The boys were balls of energy until they arrived at the bookstore and the sheer lack of proper books hit them.

Harry had been dead set on picking up a few cultural book – ‘they’ve been isolated for decades, mum. It’s a wonder they even have the same _language_ we do!’ – and Daniel desperately wanted something that contained the basics of magic.

Every book was either completely irrelevant or used language so ostentatious that both Petunia and Lewis were scowling at the words after reading about two pages. The owner of the store had just looked at Harry funny when he’d asked about the cultural books.

Eventually they’d just purchased anything even remotely understandable along with the standard first year books and went on their way to get the boys their wands.

Petunia didn’t like one bit how that man had looked at Harry when he told his little story.

“-gave your brother his famed scar.”

Lewis stepped in front of Harry, “I’ll thank you to not touch _my_ son.”

Harry had scowled at the mention of his blood brother, Daniel looked equally indignant, and Petunia couldn’t help but think they’d got that exact look from her.

They’d paid for the wands, thanked McGonagall, and went home.

At least, they had intended to go home.

The moment McGonagall had disappeared a second crack followed the one she’d made. It was barely a second between the second crack and the third but in that time Harry’s arm was snatched and tugged loose of Lewis’s.

And then he was gone.

True to their reputation, none of the remaining Williamsons screeched or gasped or anything so untowardly. Petunia looked at Lewis, the steely anger burning in her eyes echoed in his. Daniel frowned, then he turned to his parents and was immediately assured.

In his entire eleven years of life he’d only ever seen one person attempt to cross his parents. Key word being ‘attempt’ – and even that had ended with the perpetrator completely destitute, his reputation in shambles, and blacklisted from any company even remotely prestigious.

“Petunia, darling,” Lewis started, “Do you happen to know where we could report an incident?”

“As it happens, I asked a witch about it while the boys were being fitted for robes.”

“Is it near?”

“There’s an office in the ally.” Petunia smoothed out her skirt, looking at Lewis through her lashes, “And did you bring the papers?”

“Of course,” He smirked.

While the Williamsons schemed, in a house layered in naught but notice me not charms, a very angry Harry Williamson was thrashing and clawing at the exhausted arms of one James Potter.

Harry had, of course, been put into karate a couple of years ago by Lewis. Both to try and teach him a modicum of discipline and to perhaps help him win some of those many fights he insisted on getting into.

He didn’t get out of James’s hold, the man was an auror and also had two and a half feet on Harry, but he gave good enough of a fight that he was relatively certain the man had at the very least been somewhat injured.

Lily and Michael Potter stood in fascinated horror as the youngest – technical – Potter tore a chunk out of the eldest’s arm with his teeth when James tried to pin him.

The blood Harry spat on the floor managed to snap them out of their trance.

“James!” Lily shouted, rushing forward with Michael right behind her.

Harry was pushed to the side as mother and son fussed over James, never mind that Lily had healed the wound with a flick of her wand. For his part, Harry tugged and pulled at that warm spot in his chest until he felt it – _magic_ – rush up and over him.

 _Clean_ , he thought.

The magic listened to his will and ran with it. In a matter of moments every flick of dust and blood on Harry’s person had been purged and the coppery tang in his mouth was replaced with mint.

“What is wrong with you!?” Michael yelled at him, tears were pouring down his face and Harry couldn’t help but be unimpressed.

“ _You_ kidnapped _me_. What is wrong with _you_!?” Harry shot back.

Lily scoffed, “We didn’t kidnap you, Petunia kidnapped you.”

Harry, though he was probably unaware, made a face that translated quite well into: _what the fucking hell is wrong with my birth family and how am I the only one who got out with some sanity?_

“You bit me!” James said, still hung up on the fact that moments ago there was a gaping hole in his arm.

“You _kidnapped_ me.” Harry parroted back.

“Do not talk to your father that way!” Lily screeched.

“I don’t.” He said, “Only the arseholes who _kidnapped_ me!”

Just then, someone tumbled out of the floo.

The person stood up, black robes swishing gracefully as the figure found his footing, to quite the sight.

Harry, staring at the figure in mild fascination and latent indignation, stood defensively on one side of the room while the Potters stood on the other. There was also a pool of blood on the floor.

For a moment no one moved.

Then,

“Sirius?” James asked, voice soft and confused.

“James.” He responded, voice hard and overall dispassionate. Then he turned to Harry and almost fell to his knees, “ _Harry_.”

“Um.” Harry said, because a strange man falling out of a fireplace and then saying your name like his heart was breaking was _not_ something they taught you about at school, “Are you part of my kidnapping?”

“I – what – _no_.” Sirius’s head snapped to the Potters, “ _Kidnapping_?!”

“For gods sake!” Lily said with a roll of her eyes, “We didn’t kidnap him.”

“Yes you did!” Harry shouted, “you pulled me out of my dads arms and brought me here against my will. That is the bloody _definition_ of kidnapping.”

“I _am_ your dad.” James frowned.

“If you try and convince me one more time that your my father I swear to god I’ll –“

Lily interrupted him, “Do not threaten your father!”

Harry, for all he was raised to be a respected and mild mannered member of higher society, was still an eleven year old boy who had been kidnapped by incredibly obnoxious group of twats and had reached his limit about four seconds ago.

He flung himself at the Potters. No clear plan but with a unwavering determination to punch at least one of them, only to be caught hastily around the waist by an alarmed Sirius.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Sirius said the moment he set Harry back on his feet.

“I was buying my school supplies with my family when _he_ ,” Harry very pointedly frowned at James, “kidnapped me and brought me here. Who are _you_?”

Sirius blinked, “I’m your godfather.”

“I don’t _have_ a godfather.” Harry frowned.

“What?” James said. “How?”

“I have two godmothers.”

“Well, you _do_ have a godfather: me.” Sirius said, “My spells latched onto your presence for the first time in a decade and I came to find you.”

“What?” Harry frowned a little harder.

Sirius sighed, “I wasn’t informed about giving you up until I came to visit you a week later. Your parents –“

Harry growled, “ _Not_ my parents.”

“Right,” he chuckled slightly, “James and Lily refused to tell me where you were and my spells couldn’t detect you for shit. I thought you were dead.”

Harry’s eyes widened in realisation, “Then I was brought here…”

“And a decade’s worth of tracking spells came to life at once.”

Sirius had certainly not been expecting it. Remus and him had been all but asleep on the couch in his study, the both of them tangled together. It had been a slow day, too much paperwork to sign and test papers to grade for the both of them, and neither could work up the motivation to get up and finish any of it.

The last of his consciousness was fading when a blaring alarm startled them onto the floor. In the corner of the study sixteen different crystals were flickering with light and a bell was ringing. Something or another was making a hell of a lot of noise and a map littered with dry blood stared moving for the first time in ten years.

Remus looked at Sirius and Sirius looked at Remus.

The werewolf pushed him through the floo soon after.

Lily butted into the conversation before Harry could continue it, “You’re not welcome in this house, Sirius.”

“That you forgot to revoke my floo access is your own damn fault.”

“ _Leave_.” She said.

“Not without my godson.” He responded.

Lily scoffed, “And what about Michael, your _other_ godson? Do you not care about _him_?”

“That’s fucking rich coming from you, Lily. And you’d do well to remember it was _you_ who prohibited contact.”

Someone knocked on the door. Harry stared at door, Michael stared at Sirius, while James, Lily, and Sirius were caught in three person staring contest. Nobody moved a muscle.

“Is anyone going to get the door?” Michael asked.

“I – yes.” Lily moved quickly to the door, it didn’t take more than ten seconds seeing as they’d not made it further into the house than the entrance hall before Harry had torn into James with his teeth. Then: “ _Petunia_?”

“Mom!” Harry smiled, running into his real mother’s waiting arms as a squadron of aurors pushed past them and into the house.

“Kingsley?” James blinked.

The man sighed, “James, what have you done now?”

Over the years Kingsley had gone through many phases in regards to the Potter family. First had been admiration and idolisation. The brilliant charms master, an acclaimed auror, and the boy who lived – anybody would strive to that level of familial greatness.

Then had come confusion. A vague period that Kingsley was ashamed to admit lasted more than a few years. He’d just graduated from the auror academy and had been tasked to work with _the_ James Potter – he hadn’t yet understood that this was a job the more experienced pushed on the newbies so they didn’t have to suffer it. The man was good at his job, sure, but he was a _pain_ to work with. He had a mouth on him that sorely lacked a filter, it was only his sons achievements that saved him from being hexed silly every other day, and an inconsideration for others that was truly astounding.

Kingsley had spent a long time rationalising his behaviour.

Then he’d met the rest of the family. Lily Potter, talented as advertised but as snooty as a born pureblood, and Michael Potter, slightly above average at best and more arrogant than a Malfoy, and his opinion of them had crashed and burned.

Soon enough he’d come to see them as the rest of their colleagues did: conceited annoyances to be tolerated solely for the sake of not getting crucified by the public.

Still, when he’d been contacted by a frantic mother earlier that morning, he had not expected to be marching into the Potter residence to rescue the child they’d so callously thrown aside from them.

Petunia Williamson, the mother in question, had filled him in on everything when she’d marched into the auror office and demanded an audience with the person in charge. He’d been curious enough to grant the muggle women and her family an interview. She’d brought in papers, everything from adoption record to the letter Lily had penned ten years prior, and told him how she’d feared something like this might happen.

After verifying her claims – it had only taken a few minutes thanks to the wonder that was magic – he’d assembled a squadron and apparated them all to the Potter town house.

The second the door opened to reveal them a black headed child that could have been James’s clone sprinted toward them and threw himself at Petunia.

“Nothing!” James spluttered.

Kinsley raised a tired eyebrow, “I’ve been informed otherwise. Kidnapping is illegal, you know.”

“He’s our son.” James spluttered.

“Not as of ten years ago.” Kingsley made a motion and produced a copy of the adoption record, shoving it in the Potters direction, “We don’t need to escalate this further.”

“You can’t take him!” Lily screeched.

“I didn’t,” Petunia sniffed, tucking her son behind her back, “ _You_ left him.”

“Sirius?” Kinsley frowned, just now noticing the imposing figure standing to the side, “I didn’t expect you, of all people, to be a part of this scheme.”

“He’s not.” Harry piped up, “He came to rescue me.”

“Rescue?” Lewis asked.

“He’s my godson.” Sirius said.

“He’s not got a godfather,” Petunia said, “My sisters are his godmothers.”

“Please,” Sirius’s voice was raspy, “I wasn’t told of the plans to leave him with you, and I’ve searched for him for years. My mate and i… we miss him so much.”

“I’m not giving you my son,” Petunia said slowly, ignoring the noise of indignation from Lily, “but… you may visit, if that is something Harry would like.”

“Yes!” Harry shouted, then blushed at Petunias sharp look, “I mean… can he please visit, mum?”

Petunia smiled and nodded.

Sirius’s grin was bright. “I’ll let Remus, my mate, know. May I have your address?”

Addresses and phone numbers, because Remus insisted they install a telephone in the black residence if he were to move in, were exchanged and promises were made to meet up.

It was only when Sirius flood back home that the occupants of the room were reminded to why they were gathered.

“You are all very lucky.” Kingsley said to the Potters, “The Williamson have decided to let this slide on the condition that you cease claiming that he is _your_ son.”

“We will –“ James started angrily.

Lily cut him off with a cold glare in Kingsley’s direction, “Fine.”

“We’ll be taking our leave now.” Lewis said, came forward to his wife’s side and placed one hand each on his sons shoulders.

“Of course,” Kinsley smiled, “We’ll apparate you back to diagon ally.”

“Thank you.” Petunia nodded.

And with that the ordeal was put behind them. Lily and James were left to nurse both their pride and their injuries. Kingsley and his aurors dropped the Williamsons back off at the aurors office, all feeling slightly vindicated at having been given that chance to get back at James Potter, if only a little. And the Williamson went home feeling relieved and angry in equal measures.

Regardless of the kidnapping attempt, sad as it was, summer passed in a blur of books and grass. Harry had forced Daniel to study with him, making sure the both of them were as prepared as possible for their entrance to the wizarding world. In return Daniel had commandeered his brother to be the seventh member in his soccer team. Harry wasn’t very good, but he played passably enough that they managed to win a couple of friendly tournaments.

In regards to preparing for the new world, Sirius and Remus had been a tremendous help. Sirius was a pure-blooded lord, which was just about as _wizard_ as one could be, and Remus was his husband and a teacher to boot– the two of them combined were a walking, two-part encyclopaedia on all things magic.

Both Sirius and Remus had become incredibly fond of Harry and Daniel, beyond what could possibly be felt for a memory of a baby. Daniel was, in truth, very much like Sirius in his manner. While Harry had a sharpness about him, both in wit and stature, that mirrored Remus. The wizards also delighted in joining in on the monthly Williamson family game night.

The rest of the family had, for lack of a better term, adopted Sirius and Remus.

By the time September 1st rolled around they were all comfortable enough around each other that Sirius and Remus had slept over in their guest room the night before in order to help send the boys off.

David and Loretta had stayed next door at Genevieve’s place.

The morning was… chaotic to say the least.

Harry and Daniel were running around, throwing things into their bags in the forgetful way only young boys ever manage. Sirius couldn’t find his wand, Remus amusedly did not mention how it was tucked into Sirius’s hair, holding his bun together. Lewis was making breakfast while Petunia prepared coffee for them all. The noise through the walls indicated that the same antics were likely occurring at the second Williamson residence.

Eventually, though, the group of ten were out the doors and stuffed into three separate cabs on route to kings cross station.

It took more than a few minutes for them all to slip between the false wall to platform 9 and ¾ , not in the least because Genevieve spent a good ten of those minutes psyching herself up for the run.

Once on the other side, the large group got themselves situated and started with their goodbyes. There was still a half hour before the train was due to leave, but the Williamsons were notorious for taking forever to say goodbye. Harry and Daniel were subjected to copious amounts of hugs and forehead kisses, and they returned them all with just as much enthusiasm.

Petunia, was clutching Lewis’s arm like a vice – that he was rather built from all his time working on cars was all that saved him from a crushed radius. They’d stepped back, allowing the rest of the family to hug the boys goodbye first. But as the minutes ticked down, and they got closer and closer to bidding their sons farewell for the next couple of months, neither was particularly handling keeping their composure well.

A shrill toot came from the train, warning children to say their final goodbyes and get on lest they be left behind.

Lewis grabbed first Daniel then Harry into tight hugs. He hugged them for a good long minute before releasing them, keeping one hand on each of their shoulders.

“I love you both.” He took a breath, swallowing back the thickness in his throat before continuing, “Please, don’t destroy the magical castle.”

Petunia smacked him upside his head.

“They know better than to _destroy_ the castle,” She said, coming forward, “they’ll singe it, at most.”

The boys smirked at each other and Petunia rolled her eyes.

“Don’t forget to write.”

Harry groaned, “We _won’t_ , mum.”

Daniel nodded his agreement, “Yeah, we’ll write _every_ week.”

Petunia smiled, “You better get going, boys. Or the train will leave without you.”

The boys hesitated.

Children, those who came from homes filled with love and good memories, tend to miss those homes. And their homes miss them in return.

When Petunia was their age she’d left home without a second glance, ignoring the dull pain that ripped in her chest when no one bothered to ask her to stay. It had been different, going off to university. She’d missed Loretta and David fiercely, both her and Gen had almost declined Queens offer because of the distance. The elder Williamsons, however, had put their feet down on the issue and sent them off to Scotland – both girls had been grateful for it.

Everyone must leave the nest eventually, not permanently, of course, visits were always welcome, but children must explore the world on their own at some point.

Harry looked to Daniel, his terrified excitement mirrored in his brothers eyes.

Well, not quite on their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will be the boys at hogwarts :)


	3. chapter iii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Daniel's first year at Hogwarts, and all that entails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ye gods, i have an incredibly important test in two days but i also haven't updated this in almost a year (sorry!!). Originally i planned to have chapter 3 be years 1 through 4 at Hogwarts, and then chapter four would be 5,6, and the war. unfortunetly i am a dumbass and now you're getting one chapter for every year at hogwarts :'). have fun!!

Any parent - or I should say, any _good_ parent - worries when their child leaves home for the first time. It is really only natural. You don’t just panic about the big things either, like: what if they get kidnapped or what if they ring you three months later to tell you they’ve gotten a girl pregnant. 

Your mind strays and you find yourself battling off the urge to call them and ask if they’ve eaten lunch yet, if they’ve made it to class on time, and do they need you to come over there and help them with anything because you can be there in an hour - forty minutes if you break a few traffic laws.

Now imagine your kids aren’t even eighteen, they’re eleven and you’ve placed them on a train Scotland bound. Your children will be in Scotland learning _magic,_ surrounded by elitist arseholes who think of you and yours as less than dirt. And the only way to contact them is a mildly dodgy mail system delivered exclusively by owls.

Petunia and Lewis were gripping each other's arms as the train pulled away from the station.

Despite the smiles and jokes they’d managed in front of the boys, their put together images were rapidly falling apart.

“Petunia?” Sirius asked, “How are you holding up?”

She grimaced, shooting him a thumbs up that contrasted heavily with the panic in her eyes.

“That’s what i thought,” he said, “Let’s get home, we can crack open a bottle of my father’s prized firewhisky.”

Gen looped a hand through Sirius’s, “Are you suggesting day drinking?”

Diana snorted, “Because if so, we’re in.”

The family broke into giggles, tension drained. Lewis patted Petunias arm and for a moment; all was well.

The same could not be said for Harry and David, about five miles west of the train station both boys were caught up in what amounted to the least intimidating confrontation either boy had ever been involved in.

“What’s he doing?” Daniel spoke out the side of his mouth.

Harry raised an eyebrow as his twin, who had his wand shoved threateningly in their direction. The boy was shaking, ever so slightly.

“You know, Dan, I’m not entirely sure.”

Another boy, one with hair far more orange than the deep red of Michaels, snorted arrogantly. He had a bit of dirt on his nose, it was all Daniel could concentrate on, “He’s gonna curse you, idiots.”

“Sure he is.” Harry said, staring straight at Michael with a small smirk, “Go ahead, _brother_ .” He spat the word like an insult, “Attack me, unprovoked. I don’t even have my wand on me. I do wonder who's going to get in trouble for _that_.”

“You hurt our father.” Michael said.

“Mm,” Harry hummed, placing his hands behind his back. The picture of innocence, “Shouldn’ta kidnapped me.”

“He didn’t kidnap you!”

“The bruises on my wrist tell a different story.” Harry sing-songed.

Daniel rolled his eyes as the other boy spluttered, “Just get out. We were here first.”

Michael and the other boy stormed out of the compartment and the Williamson brothers let out a collective breath.

“Harry.”

“Yeah?”

“Your brother is incredibly unimpressive.”

“Isn’t he just?”

Harry and Daniel spent the rest of the train ride holled up in their compartment, each boy only leaving once to go to the bathroom. When Daniel left, he came back with a bushy haired girl named Hermione. Neither were surprised when Harry returned dragging a terrified looking blonde kid and his frog behind him.

Hermione got on spectacularly with Harry. And Neville with Daniel, at least, he did as soon as he came out of his shell. By the time the train pulled up to the station, the four of them had resolved to remain friends no matter what houses they ended up in.

In another world, another life, a small boy with a lightning bolt scar had shakingly, stubbornly told the hat to throw him into the lion's den despite how the dark corners of the snake pit seemed to call to him. 

That boy wanted nothing more than to make his dead parents proud.

But Harry’s parents weren’t dead, neither set of them, and the ones that had raised him had done a rather brilliant job of it, all things considered. He was still skinny, still small and feisty. But where skin and bones would have been lies the beginning of lithe muscles. His shoulders were thrown back and his grin was infectious and deadly in equal measures.

Even at eleven years old, Harry Williamson was dangerous - not quite deadly, at least, not yet. It was only the presence of his slightly older brother, whose smile was more puppy dog than shark, that kept people from inching away from Harry.

That, along with the fact that most people were too busy fawning over his twin to notice Harry.

Harry was entirely fine with this, and contented himself with chatting with Hermione and one of the Patil twins about the syllabus content. Daniel chimed in every now and then, but mostly concentrated on teaching Neville how to play chopsticks.

“Wait, are you serious?” Hermione asked, looking at both Harry and Padma in horror.

Harry nodded in sympathy while Padma wrinkled her brow in confusion.

“What's the matter?” she asked.

Hermione stared at her for a moment before answering, “We haven’t a single core subject at this school.”

“Yes we do,” Padma frowned, “We have charms, and transfiguration, and -”

Harry cut her off gently, “She means classes like English and math.”

“But why would we need those?”

Harry chuckled slightly when Padma’s question caused Hermione to gape like a fish, “Give her a second, Padma. I think you broke her.”

Padma smiled at him slightly, but her eyes continuously flickered back to Hermione in concern, “Um, Hermione? Are you alright?”

“Fine.” she said hollowly, then she sharply turned to Harry, “How would you feel about a study group?”

Harry smiled, nudging Daniel slightly, “I bet our mum would be overjoyed if we asked her to send over some text books.”

Daniel groaned slightly, “We’re not even officially in school yet. _Must_ we talk about studying already?”

“Tsk, tsk, brother dearest.” Harry said fondly, “It’s never too early to study.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No it’s not.” Harry said.

“It is.”

“Not.”

“Is.

“Not.”

“Is.”

“Is.”

“Not - ugh!” Daniel grumbled, “That is _cheating_!”

“Is it?” Harry smirked. “I don’t recall you ever setting rules for our bickering.”

Padma leaned into Hermione slightly as the Williamson brothers fell into another round of ‘is - is nots’, “Oh he’s _definitely_ going to Slytherin.”

The other girl nodded in amusement, sharing a grin with Padma.

“Say,” Padma said after a moment, “would you mind if I joined your study group?”

Harry beamed, snapping out of the bickering, “The more the merrier, Padma. Invite whoever you want.”

Padma returned his smile and had just opened her mouth to thank him when professor McGonagall entered the room and beckoned them in.

Daniel and Neville went to Gryffindor with little fuss. Harry grinned, clapping along with the other students, though his smile slipped slightly when his biological brother was sorted into the house of red and gold as well. The cheers were louder for Michael, no one even noticed Harry’s slight grimace.

Hermione presented the hat with more of a challenge. If anyone listened close enough they’d be able to hear both girl and hat engrossed in a discussion on the sentience of magical artifacts. _Hat stall_ , they’d call her. _Insatiably curious_ , would be a more accurate term. At the five minute mark the hat bade Hermione farewell as she took her seat amongst the ravens.

People gasped when Harry was called up, most having forgotten that the Potters even _had_ another son. He disliked the attention, mostly because his name still hadn’t been changed despite numerous attempts to do just so.

“Hello,” Harry said quietly, “My name is Harry.”

“I know who you are, child,” The hat chimed in his mind, “I know everything about you.”

Harry frowned at the implication. He’d read that the hat could do this, but nevertheless having a sentient piece of fabric claiming to have pillaged your innermost thoughts was rather uncomfortable. As a matter of fact, the sorting process seemed entirely unethical to him. 

He hadn’t consented to have his mind read, and he highly doubts anyone else had. Is the information gleaned ever discussed? To whom does this hat report to?

If the hat could learn everything about a person just from sitting on their heads, could it effectively be used as an interrogation tool?

The hat chuckled, knocking Harry clean off his train of thought.

“Oh, child.” It said, “You’ll fit right in at… SLYTHERIN.”

Harry moved to take the hat off when it added, “And for your information, all your secrets will be kept.”

“Thank you.”

Daniel, Neville, Padma and Hermione clapped immediately. The rest of the hall joining in after an awkward pause. 

Most had expected the second Potter to go to Gryffindor. Even the Snakes looked mildly surprised at this development. Many grimaced, either in pity or disgust. They assumed the slytherins would eat him alive - if he were anyone else, they’d be right.

But Harry was a Williamson through and through. Daniel and him had been raised to one day enter the upper echelons of society, even if their family was warmer than most. Etiquette and stuffy polite conversation was nothing new to him.

He introduced himself as Harry Williamson, raising a single, unimpressed eyebrow at the handful of students who looked a moment away from commenting. 

He did not dismiss the Malfoy boy out of hand, like It was evident that his twin had done. Harry grasped his arm around his wrist instead of shaking his hand. Malfoy blinked in surprise, a slow smile forming on his face. 

Sirius had taught him well.

The other snakes were, not warmer exactly, but less cold after the exchange. It was akin to the difference between the icy chill of a tundra and being trapped outside under heavy rain. Neither was a condition Harry would like to endure for long, but the later bore the promise of clear skies in the future.

Pansy Parkinson smiled slightly when he complimented her butterfly clips.

It was sincere, they really did match her eyes, and he caught both Malfoy and Zabini’s eyes softening.

It seemed the skies would clear sooner rather than later.

The meal went on. The children talked and laughed and ate, by the end of the night the tense atmosphere had all but dissolved completely. 

Harry had learned to be good at that, dissolving tension. 

Too many bruises after he’d antagonised a group of twats who’d been bullying a little girl. Daniel had been at soccer practice and he couldn’t leave it alone. His body, obviously, was not yet strong enough to fend off enemies - so his words would have to do.

Daniel would roll his eyes at this notion, his brother always resorted to throwing himself bodily into danger sooner or later.

The slytherins were led to the dungeons, where a man with dark eyes and a mean frown told them none too kindly that: yes, the other houses would hate them for the greens on their robes. He told them that they were family now, that above all else, snakes stuck together.

His eyes rested on Harry with a look that somehow combined pity, regret, and mild disgust.

The very next day Harry plopped himself down next to Hermione on the ravenclaw table. They were both early risers, barely anyone else was in the room, the few others awake gazed curiously at the pair of them. 

Hermione grinned at him.

They spent the early hours discussing magical theory. Padma joined them twenty minutes later, and though she was shocked to see Harry sitting with them, she was pleased to see that he would not dismiss them all in favour of the snakes.

He left only when the teachers began passing out timetables.

Zabini shuffled to the side to make space for him.

Nobody questioned him beyond a confused frown or two.

Two weeks later, Harry ended up dragging half the first year slytherins with him to the study group. Hermione and Draco had matching looks of distaste on their faces, but a sharp glare from Harry had them slipping into their respective seats with little more than a grumble.

With a little effort, Harry managed to subtly arrange the study table for maximum efficiency. Padma and Hermione, the best charms and transfiguration students respectively, were seated beside Neville, who was objectively terrible at both. 

To Neville's left was Blaise Zabini, who was hopeless at herbology but rather brilliant at astronomy, and he was followed by Zacharias smith and Daniel, with Susan Bones directly in front of him and Hannah Abbot to the right of her, Crabbe and Goyle sat beside them.

Draco and Pansy sat on either side of Harry, so that they could give him advice on potions while he helped them, and most of the table, with DADA.

This arrangement, incidentally, left Draco and Hermione sat next to each other. Which was counterproductive to a cheerful work environment.

But Harry supposed you couldn’t win them all.

For the better part of an hour they all got on with their homework, each working on their best subject first before swapping notes and helping each other finish the rest of it.

In a few days, the Hogwarts staff would be pleasantly surprised to see such a large percentage of first years that understood sentence structure and pacing in an essay (Daniel and Harry would be smug about this for the next three years).

When they’d finished their work everyone had sighed in relief. That lasted all of five seconds before Harry and Hermione pulled out various muggle textbooks with unholy glee in their eyes.

Daniel groaned so loud the librarian almost kicked them out, but he remained seated nonetheless.

You will find that children, when expectations and stress are removed from the equation, will quite happily throw themselves into learning. Harry, Hermione, Padma, and, surprisingly, Draco were content to self study most of the muggle core subjects without complaint.

Hermione was particularly adamant that she keep her math skills sharp for when she planned to take arithmancy in the future. Draco had managed to cajole Harry into teaching him chemistry on the basis that the subject would be dead useful in chemistry. And Daniel had insisted that if they were studying muggle subjects there was no way in hell they were leaving out English.

The others in the group, most of which would really rather be doing nothing at all, somehow found themselves pulled into muggle lessons.

This would become a tradition, of sorts.

Every Saturday, the group (which was slowly growing to include Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, Parvati Patil, Tracy Davis, Lavender Brown, and Justin Finch-Fletchley - who Daniel and Harry actually already knew from a few galas and charity balls they’d been made to attend) would meet up in the library. They’d finish all their homework for the week before breaking off into smaller groups to study whatever muggle subject they so decided upon.

This, of course, swiftly derailed any divide that Hogwarts tradition dictated should occur between the four houses. The majority of the slytherin first years were, dare they say it, _friends_ with the rest of their year and vice versa. Good enough friends that Lavender Brown once took Pansy Parkinson’s side when a second year Gryffindor tried to curse her in the hall and then pin it on Pansy. The boy in question got a week of detention and had immediately tried to get Lavender shunned by the rest of the gryffindors. 

Fortunately, the rest of the first year lions save the saviour politely ignored the order to ignore Lavender and carried on with their lives.

Harry hadn’t meant to do it.

All he’d wanted was some help on his magical homework and a few study buddies for his muggle reading. 

What he’d ended up doing instead was ending a century’s long feud and, due to the fact that he’d inadvertently de-radicalized more than half of the future law-makers of their country, drastically changed the outcome of a war that wouldn’t even start for four more years.

One day a polite, if overenthusiastic, historian would come knocking on his door, and Harry would say that he’d planned it all along - winking impishly before shutting the door in the man’s face. 

But that was many, many years in the future.

For now Harry was being dragged into a footy match with his brother, Dean Thomas, and a bunch of other muggle born students who were desperate to play.

The match ended with every single one of them sweaty, exhausted, and covered head to toe in mud.

“I hate you so much.” Harry said to a grinning Daniel.

In response, his brother shoved him back into the mud.

Before they knew it, almost two months had passed and Halloween was swiftly approaching. 

Ever Since that fateful night almost eleven years ago Halloween had been somewhat of a spectacle in the wizarding world. Bolstered by the Potter’s annual ball - incidentally, this year was the first one Michale wouldn’t attend - witches and wizards everywhere treated the 31st as an enormous celebration.

For some purebloods, particularly the ones that still followed the old ways, this was an affront. 

“It’s a disgrace.” Draco spat one day when Hermione casually wondered out loud what they’d be doing for Halloween in the castle. “They’ve taken our traditions and morphed it into a celebration of Potter instead of what it should be.”

“What is it supposed to be about?”

“Our ancestors,” Pansy answered, “We honour them and celebrate the end of the harvest.”

“But… we don’t harvest anything.” Hermione said slowly.

“Not anymore,” Draco muttered, “But we still usher in the dark half of the year and pray for good fortune.”

“Wait.” She said after a moment, “Samhain? Is that what you’re talking about?”

Draco blinked in surprise, “you’ve heard of it?”

“Read it in a book once,” Was Hermione’s rather typical reply. “Does this mean you guys are pagan?”

“We are.” Pansy said.

“Huh.” Hermione nodded once, twice, then: “Can you teach me?”

Harry, who had been listening in on the conversation from behind his physics text book, dropped his head back down with a smile, feeling somewhat like a proud parent. Daniel kicked his foot under the table and looked at him like he knew exactly what Harry was thinking.

That Samhain, Harry bullied Draco into hosting a celebration near the great lake.

Every pagan in the school, and a couple of curious muggle borns, marched out of the school after the Halloween dinner where they’d barely touched their food. A week earlier, Harry had gotten special permission from McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, _and_ Snape to let them stay up so late, so none of them were concerned about being caught.

The atmosphere was light as Draco lit the bonfire Daniel had built a few hours ago with the help of Hagrid. They sat on the floor, invited their ancestors to join them, and ate from the seemingly endless picnic baskets that the houselves that provided.

Hogwarts had not been nearly so united for centuries.

When it was over, every student used the bonfire to light a small fire in a jar which they brought back to their dorms.

The next morning, Michael Potter and Ronald Weasley couldn’t quite place what had changed.

But something definitely had.

For his part, Albus Dumbledore knew exactly what had changed. He just wasn’t quite sure whether to be pleased about it or not.

On one hand the school was finally, _finally_ uniting. Slytherins could be seen casually chatting with muggleborns, purebloods mixing in with the rest of the student body with so little prejudice he could scarcely believe his eyes. It was everything he’d been fighting for since he was thirty.

He wasn’t entirely happy with it, though.

You see, he had a plan. Men like Albus Dumbledore _always_ had a plan. They had plans for their plans. Plans for how to best organize their shopping trips, plans for his beard, and plans for stopping a genocidal maniac from destroying his community.

He had not accounted for Harry Potter in his plans.

Michale was the survivor, the prophecy child marked with a distinct ‘v’ across his right eye. Dumbledore had been training the boy since he was a child and by all accounts Michale… well, he _should_ be doing what Harry already had.

Instead of uniting the school, the beloved saviour was something of a social pariah by his own choice. His only real friend was Ronald Weasely because he rebuffed any hand that extended itself to him. Meanwhile the brother that the Potter’s had given away for his own safety was flourishing.

Dumbledore was half tempted to drag the boy-hero up to his office and insist he start making friends.

In the end, he settled for watching.

Harry and Michale were antagonistic towards each other at best, downright hostile at worst. Michale seemed to carry resentment towards Harry for what he’d done to their father (Dumbledore had downed three shots of firewhiskey upon hearing of _that_ incident) and Harry in turn was indignant at his own kidnapping.

Their cousin, Daniel, was usually able to keep the peace. From what had been reported, this usually occurred by Daniel grabbing Harry around the collar and physically dragging him away from a fight.

Michale had better grades than Harry, but only barely. Dumbledore had expected the boy to be miles ahead of his year group with the years of training, but Harry was swiftly gaining grounds on his brother with a combination of tenacity and natural talent that hadn’t been seen since Tom Riddle himself.

In fact, most of the first years were well above what was typically expected of them.

A result he could easily attribute to Harry Potter's - _Williamson_ , Dumbledore always had to remind himself that the boy was no longer a Potter - study group.

Another thing that Michale should have thought up first.

It seemed that the only area that the brothers were truly equal was on a broomstick. Both boys were naturals, and their house teams would probably be overjoyed to have them next year.

Before Dumbledore could do anything more than ponder on his observations the Hogwarts express was pulling up to the Hogsmeade station to take the children home for christmas (or, for most purebloods, Yule).

A few hundred miles away, Lewis and Petunia were feeling the same anxiety. Less because all their plans were falling apart and more because they had no idea what state their children would be arriving in. 

Oh they _seemed_ fine in their letters. But Harry could write around his actual feelings for three pages before leaving you no more informed than you were half an hour ago. Daniel, of the two of them, was actually the better liar. And Petunia wouldn’t trust a word out of either of their mouths until she could look them in the eye.

They’d arrived at the station two hours early in an effort to work out their nerves before the boys arrived.

The rest of the Williamson clan was back at Petunia and Lewis’s place. They’d only just managed to convince the entire group to stay back instead of taking up half the platform space like they did last time.

“Mum!”

“Dad!” 

Two voices they knew well chirped, Petunia and Lewis snapped their heads towards the sound and held out their arms as their boys barreled into them.

Harry, who’d run to Petunia, Mumbled into her shoulder, “Missed you guys.”

“Oh, I missed you too, love.” She kissed the top of his head before releasing him.

Harry and Daniel quickly switched places, hugging and greeting their other parent before dragging Petunia and Lewis over to a girl with bushy hair.

“Mum, Dad,” Harry said, “This is Hermione Granger. She’s my best friend.”

“Hello.” Hermione said, tucking a piece of hair out of her face, “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s lovely to meet you too, dear.” Petunia smiled.

“Oh!” Daniel cupped his hands around his mouth, “Oi! Nev!”

A boy holding desperately onto a frog made his way over to them with a sheepish grin.

“‘Lo.”

“Nev, meet our parents.” Daniel waved a hand over at his parents, “Mom, dad. This is Neville. He’s _my_ best friend.”

“Nice to meet you, Neville.” Lewis shook his hand and Petunia echoed the statement.

After introductions concluded Daniel and Harry spent the next twenty minutes dragging them all over the platform to meet all their friends. It was rather exhausting, but Petunia and Lewis were delighted to have actual proof that their boys weren’t socially shunned at boarding school

The holidays were calm and relaxing and everything Petunia had feared she’d never get back. 

Sirius, Remus, and the boys convinced the entire family, who really weren’t very religious one way or another, to observe the yuletide rites. It was nice, actually. And Petunia could already envision this becoming something they just _did_.

Game nights once a month, Sunday family dinner, pagan festivals and celebrations.

The boys went back to school just a little bit chubbier than they had been when they left and they only had one run in with the Potters - who just sort of glared at them on the platform before waltzing away.

Classes were relaxed for the first week before all the students faced a sharp uptick in their work. Exams were around the corner and most students, including the Williamsons, were focussed on passing their exams with high enough grades to placate their parents.

Across the castle, Michale and Ron were paying more attention to figuring out who the hell Nicholas Flamel was.

As exams drew nearer and nearer Harry became what can only be described as a neurotically focussed madman. The only people who could stand to be near him was Daniel, who had dealt with this behaviour every year since he was four and had been ensuring his brother actually survived exam season since they were six, and Hermione, who was equally insane if slightly better at managing her stress.

Study group took place four times a week instead of just on Saturdays and muggle studies was placed on the back burner for the rest of the month.

Was Harry’s method of studying healthy, sane, and in any way sustainable? Absolutely not.

But was it effective? Hell _yes_.

He smashed through the exams with the ease of someone who was so well prepared they could probably sit their second year examinations right there and then and do just as well. 

Flitwick had him make a pineapple tap dance, tango, and do an improvised sock hop. Daniel called him a showoff before proceeding to do the exact same thing, if a little less smoothly. Mcgonagall’s snuff box test was a breeze, and the herbology examination went off without a hitch.

Daniel and Hermione both thought they’d done great in astronomy, Harry insisted on debating one specific star alignment with Blaise for the next three days. 

Defence against the dark arts was fine for the most part.

Most of the group was confident in their performance and Harry had managed to block out his incessant headache in order to do the test.

If he cared enough to find out, he’d probably have looked into his professors background to try and find out why in the world just looking at the man gave him - and if he wasn’t mistaken, Michale Potter - splitting headaches.

As it was, Harry was far more concerned with not absolutely destroying his cauldron in potions.

It was, hands down, his worst subject. Made worse by the fact that Snape barely tolerated him at the best of times, and would breath down his neck every second he was in the room. Harry’s only saving grace was the fact that Snape hated Micheal way, _way_ more than he hated Harry.

Usually, of the two, Snape would take out his anger on Micheal. Harry still hadn’t puzzled out _why_ Snape hated them, but regardless he did not appreciate it. It made learning and practicing potions neigh on impossible - and completing the exam frustratingly difficult.

But Harry powered through and prayed to any god that would listen that he’d at least get an Acceptable.

Potions was the last exam of the term, and after it was done both Harry and Hermione ended up crashing so hard that Draco and Padma had to practically carry them back to their respective dorms. Neither was seen for the next day and a half before they showed up perfectly fine at seven am in the morning, discussing the ethics of genetically modified crops at the Ravenclaw table.

All of their friends elected to dismiss the entire episode.

Daniel just shook his head and reached for another muffin, resigned to another six years of making sure his brother and his best friend didn’t become the first people to die by studying too much.

Through it all, most people had failed to realise that Michale Potter and Ronald Weasely were both missing in action, on account of having stopped their possessed teacher from making off with an immortality stone that had been illegally stored underneath their school.

Eventually, people did find out. This was Hogwarts, after all. And a swifter rumour mill had never been seen.

“Oh.” Harry said once he’d heard the story, “That makes sense.”

“What?” Daniel blinked.

“Looking at Quirrell gave me a headache.”

“And you didn’t think to _mention_ this?” Draco frowned, waving his arms dramatically. 

Harry just rolled his eyes, “It got taken care of.”

“Michael burned our teacher to death with his hands.” Daniel pointed out.

“Our possessed teacher.” Harry said.

“With his _hands_.”

Draco leaned in again, “Did you know he was possessed?”

Harry shrugged, leaning on his elbows at the table, “It was one of my theories. But my top bet was that someone had hexed the DADA classroom and it had just transferred to Quirrell.”

“What?!” 

“Yeah. I heard rumours about a curse on the position and I thought maybe someone was targeting Michael and I just got caught in the crossfire due to our shared blood.”

“That…” Draco frowned again, “Is a surprisingly sound theory but why didn’t you tell us you were getting headaches.”

“They weren’t that bad.” Harry sighed.

“Promise you’ll tell us next time weird stuff is happening to you?” Daniel held out a pinky, Harry rolled his eyes again but hooked their fingers nonetheless.

“Promise.”

The end of year feast was majorly disappointing and Harry felt just as indignant as the rest of the snakes when Dumbledore stole their victory from under their feet. Michael’s smug smile as Harry glanced over and caught his eye did not, in any way, help.

“Sorry bout that, Haz.”

“Ugh, It’s fine.” Harry groaned onto Daniel’s shoulder in their compartment on the Hogwarts express, “Was the headmaster’s fault, anyway.”

This time, when they poured out of the compartment their entire family was once again packed onto the platform.

Harry and Daniel were wearing matching grins as they walked into the waiting arms of their family.

As they walked home.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and there we go, next year we have the heir of slytherin debacle. Can Harry speak to snakes? can Michael? will they finally talk to eachother without trying to rip each other to shreds? only time will tell. love yall thanks for reading !!<33

**Author's Note:**

> What'd ya think? was the flow good? should i separate some scenes with like a dash or smthing?
> 
> Oh also, do ya'll want a next chapter for this? One like detailing Harry's hogwarts years and the war. cuz this is only meant to be one chap but if it gets enough noise i'll do another.
> 
> Let me know and thanks for reading!! <33


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